Believing is a matter of faith
by Anawielle
Summary: Written post 2x18. Nobody believes Emma about Tamara, except one person. The last one she could have expected to. [In which Hook comes back to Storybrooke without having been abducted by Tamara and Greg]


Nobody trusted her and that, surprisingly, hurt. Despite all the walls she had built up, she still wasn't as immune as she tried to be, and it still hurt that even her family didn't believe her. There was Henry, of course, but she knew he didn't believe her so much as he _wanted to_. Because the boy had been taken with the idea that there might be a chance that she and Neal got back together when really, there wasn't. She was _over_ him. And it was hard enough to resist the desire to punch him every time she saw him without even speaking of getting back together. That was ridiculous. She couldn't be angry with Henry obviously, he was just a boy, and he didn't know. What she had been through. The pain and the loneliness. The feeling that no one could ever love her, that they would all just use her and abandon her. How much she had changed, all because of his father, because he had betrayed her. No, she couldn't be angry at him, but she was seriously pissed off nonetheless – with her mother, who still treated her like the child she had never seen growing up, with Neal, who didn't even feel the need to fucking apologize, like he could just waltz back in her life and talk to her son as if nothing had ever happened, but mostly, she was pissed off with Tamara. She knew something was wrong with her, she could feel it in every cell of her body, but the woman was clearly better at hiding in plain sight than she had would have thought – being herself an ex-bounty hunter and all. No one would believe her until she found evidences. A concrete proof that Tamara was the "she" August had been trying to warn them about.

Sighing, she got out of her bed, and went upstairs, about to pour herself an orange juice or maybe something a bit stronger – she hadn't decided yet – , when she heard a soft knock on the door. She stilled, wondering who that could be. Mary Margaret and David were absent, and Henry was with Neal, which meant she was alone in the house and wasn't expecting any visitor. She went to open the door, facing the last person she expected to see.

"Hook?"

He smirked.

"Aye, lass. Missed me?"

She blinked, startled. The last time she had seen him was in New-York, after he had attacked Mr. Gold and she had had to lock him up in a storage room (each of their encounters _did_tend to end up with him being either tied or locked, but as bad as she could feel for him, she reminded herself he always brought it on himself) and though she knew he'd come back sooner or later, she didn't quite expect him to show up to Mary Margaret's apartment – hell, how did he _even_know she lived here?

"What the _hell_are you doing here?"  
"I'm glad to see you too, Emma. Would you be so kind?"

He gestured toward the inside of her apartment, and she hesitantly nodded, stepping aside to let him in. Being alone with Hook wasn't probably the best idea ever, and she had the feeling her parent wouldn't approve, but then again, they didn't really listen to her, so why should she listen to them? And she could manage Hook anyway. At least, as long as he was here, he wasn't doing something stupid - like trying to kill Gold -, and she could watch him.

She closed the door after him, staring at him as he walked in, expressing what seemed to be a genuine interest for Mary Margaret's apartment.

"'this where you live, then."

He turned to face her, a wide smile on his lips.

"How about you show me your bedroom?"

Emma frowned slightly. Not that she was one bit surprised – that was Hook for you, flirtatious as ever, his words full of innuendos - , but something was off about him, though she couldn't tell what exactly. He was smiling, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes and she knew better than anyone how to recognize a façade when she saw one – _took one to know one,_ after all. The thing was, he had never put on a façade in front of her – not after that little blacksmith act he had pulled on at their first meeting. (Now that she was thinking about it, from the moment she had told him about it, he had never seemed to doubt her "superpower" – something she couldn't really say regarding _other people_.)

"I'd rather we stay here, thank you."

She crossed her arms, tempted to ask one more time the reason of his visit, but ultimately decided against it. She didn't want to make it sound like he was annoying her, not when he had that strange, almost puppy-like look in his eyes, and especially considering he really wasn't the worst person she could be with right now, not by a long shot. So she asked instead:

"Want something to drink?"

He raised one of his eyebrows, still smiling:

"Wouldn't say no to a bottle of rum, love."  
"I'm not sure Mary Margaret keeps rum here, but I'll see what I can do", she replied, aiming for the liquor cabinet.

Digging through the different bottles, she finally caught an old bottle of spiced rum that earned Hook's approval wink, and she put it on the counter. She reached for the glasses, taking two of them, and as she was generously pouring the amber liquid into them, she glanced at the pirate, who remained silent, but clearly agitated, almost pacing. Emma couldn't help but start to worry – it just wasn't like him; Hook was usually calm, but quite chatty, especially with her. She decided to try small talk, hoping it would bring him to the reason of his visit.

"Enjoying Storybrooke so far?"

She handed him his glass as he turned to face her, replying lightly:

"Nice town, but I'm afraid the inhabitants are not quite fond of me."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. Wonder why."

She didn't miss the hurt look in his eyes before he turned away his face. Surprised, and a bit guilty, she bit her lip. The sarcasm hadn't meant to be hurtful, and after all, he couldn't ignore the fact that, being a feared and dreaded pirate, he didn't quite bring out the inhabitant's sympathy, right? Not to mention that he had shot Belle, who was probably the sweetest and nicest person in town. _That_certainly didn't help.  
She sat at the table, inviting Hook to take the seat in front of her, and waiting for him to do so, she changed the topic:

"So. You just wanted to see my pretty face, or is there something I should know?"  
"Although I can't deny the former would be more than reason enough to see you, I'm actually here to warn you."

His expression had gone darker and there was no trace of humor in his voice anymore, despite the almost mechanic flirting. There was some serious shit going on. Now really worried, Emma urged him:

"Well, go on then. What do you want to warn me about?"  
"Not what, _who_. Tamara."

Now, that was a surprise. Or rather, it wasn't. She had knew from the start Tamara was a threat, but that it was Hook, of all people, who would agree with her on this, that, was _really_unexpected indeed.  
She sighed, playing absently with her glass without actually drinking its content.

"I know."

He seemed just as surprised as she had been seconds ago.

"You do?" But before she could answer, he added, with a light smile: "Ah, yes. The lie detector thing. Of course you know."

There was something, in his smile, that made her feel like he was… proud? That was probably just her imagination, yet she couldn't help but feel butterflies in her stomach at his words. Right now, she could have hugged him. He believed her. More than that, he believed her _blindly_. No doubt, no questioning, no no-but-really-where-did-you-get-that-idea. He just believed her, plain and simple.

"Swan?"

Realizing she had been looking at him with something close to sheer gratitude for a long moment, she shook herself.

"Sorry. Yes. I could tell she was lying, but I don't… what does she… oh, God. _Henry_."

He was with Neal right now. Neal, whose girlfriend was Tamara. Oh, God. She got up so quickly her chair almost fell, but Hook instantly grabbed her wrist.

"Don't fret, lass. She's not with your boy."

She looked at him, worry painted all over her features.

"How…?"  
"Well, let's say they're far more interested in _magic_than in little boys."  
"_They_?"  
"There's that lad with her. What was his name? Greg, I believe."

He gently pulled her down, and she sat back, barely registering what she was doing.

"But… what the hell do they want?"

Hook shrugged and released her arm to take a long gulp of his rum, giving it an appreciative look before answering her.

"Your guess is as good as mine, love."

Emma remained silent for a long moment, clearly thinking. Admittedly, Hook wasn't really the most reliable person she knew, but he could probably convince Mary Margaret and David she had been right all along, and if that wasn't enough, well… they'd have to find a back up plan, but in any case, she wasn't alone anymore. Someone else knew who the real threat was.

"We have to stop her."

He arched an eyebrow questioningly.

"_We_?"

There was no teasing in his voice, only incredulity, and maybe a hint of irritation. Considering she had left him chained up on top of that bean last time they had teamed up, she guessed it was only fair he wouldn't be all happy at the idea of allying with her once again.

Before she could answer, he let out a dark, joyless laugh.

"So there's a 'we', now?"

Not just a hint, then. The words were biting, and she was startled by the sudden bitterness in his voice. He had never, until now, showed any anger toward her, regardless of how many times she had knocked him out, left behind, tied or locked him up, and that was partly what made it so easy to her. He had never held a grudge against her. Not ever.

"Hook, I… Look, I'm sorry. I really am. I did what I had to, I nev-"  
"Spare me, Swan. You keep asking for the others to trust you, but you never offer the same courtesy. I came here to warn you, not to help you."

Now completely taken aback, she stared at him helplessly, but quickly, her temper kicked back. Where the _hell_ did that come from?! That was completely _uncalled_for, though probably true – which only made it worse.

"Look who's talking! What did you _actually_came here for, Hook? To tell me about how I keep making bad decisions, how I cannot be trusted because I'm too fucking emotional over someone I got over a decade ago? Well then, just fucking go on, because I'm _dying_to be lectured by a fucking pirate - actually not just a pirate, Captain-fucking-Hook, _now_that would be the fucking highlight of my day, you have no idea!"

She let out a short, manic laugh, breathless, and after a few seconds, she realized that while speaking to him – or, rather, _shouting at him_ – she had gotten up and was leaning toward him over the table, her face a few inches from his. Her heart was racing in his chest, and now it was Hook's turn to be surprised. Well, he probably didn't expect, nor see that out-burst coming. She certainly hadn't. She hadn't wanted to take out on him all her frustration and her pain, but he had started it.  
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence as they were staring at each other intently and just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore and was about to say something – anything to break that silence -, he spoke:

"They didn't trust you. About Tamara."

It wasn't a question, but she nodded nonetheless. There was another silence, and then, he reached for her hand, stroking gently his thumb across her palm.

"And you think they're going to trust _me_? As you just pointed out, I'm a pirate, I'm not exactly trust material."  
"I didn't mea-"  
"Yes, you did. And rightly, too. I'm the only one to blame if no one trusts me. But you? Seems hardly fair. Aren't you supposed to be the savior?"

She flinched, surprised. She was no savior. She wasn't even able to save herself. No one believed her. Oh wait, there _was_someone. Yeah, that one bad guy from _Peter Pan_. Her life was _so_fucked up. And what kind of twisted savior that made her, really?  
As if reading in her mind – _open book_, she remembered – he gently tightened his grip.

"I'll help you."

Really? _Really_? As much as she was happy to hear that, she couldn't quite believe her ears. What was wrong with him today? The guy was such a lunatic!  
She blinked at him, completely disconcerted by his change of moods.

"What about your revenge?" she asked warily.

His expression darkened slightly.

"It's been waiting for three hundred years, it can wait a bit longer. And I've had a taste of it, now. It wasn't nearly as relieving as I thought it'd be. Once Rumplestiltskin is dead, I'll have nothing to look forward to. Three hundred years with nothing but revenge in mind is a long time, believe me. And that made me realize how I had not only lived for, but _became_my revenge. Back in that ridiculous town – the big apple they call it, yes? Well, I just felt… empty. I had nothing to live for anymore. _No one_."

He was sincere, she could tell. But she still wasn't following. What was he trying to say, what was that whole speech about? Was he trying to tell her he wasn't interested in his revenge anymore? That he wanted to give up? Or worse, that he wanted to _die_? Because it sounded like hell as something a suicidal person would say. Afraid it might be that, she instantly shook her head in denial.

"Hook that's… that's not true. You can start over and… I mean…it's an opportunity, isn't it?"

Yeah, good job Emma, really. But what was she supposed to tell him? That there was someone who cared about him, and that that someone was her? Because, for all the times she had knocked him or tied him, there was all those where she had intervened in his favor, tried to help him, spoke up for him – none of which he was aware about, though, she realized.

He dropped her hand, clearly buying none of it. He looked suddenly so utterly defeated, so broken, she wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but he got up.

"I'd better go. Kudos for the rum."  
"Hook, no, wait… stay. Please."

He stared at her intensely for a brief moment before answering, his voice barely above a whisper:

"Give me a good reason to."

And there was. Plenty. She trusted him. _Actually_trusted him. She had always wanted to, even back in Fairytale Land but it was that very desire, more than anything, that had convinced her not to in the first place. That's why she had left him. To protect herself. She had sworn she would never trust anyone the way she had Neal. Never again.  
But there was something more, always had been, and she could deny it all she wanted, she knew it was there. It wasn't just an attraction thing – though he _was_attractive, but it was more than that. She had _feelings_for him. She couldn't exactly tell what _kind_of feelings, she wasn't even sure she wanted to know, but she cared for him, if nothing else.

And that's what she was supposed to say, what he obviously wanted to hear. That there was someone for him. And she wanted to say it, _really_wanted to. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. She was speechless. She couldn't bring herself to tell him. Too afraid to open up to someone again. Too fucking scared of loving again, because really, what good it had brought to her until now? Neal had abandoner her, and Graham was dead.

He was looking at her expectantly, but she couldn't say anything, not a word, and god, _how_she hated herself for it. He shook his head with a sigh, disappointed but clearly not surprised, and reached for the door.

"Hook!"

He didn't even so much as glance at her as he murmured:

"Don't worry, I'll help you. As promised. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

And he left. Just like that.

She was a poor excuse of a savior. She _really_was doing a crappy job of it if she couldn't even hold back Hook, and she wished Rumplestiltskin had never made that stupid prophecy, she wished he had picked someone else, August, his son, anyone but her.

_For God's sake, Emma, get a grip, think, do something!_

Clearly, what had happened after that Manhattan episode had changed Hook, changed him deeply. He had realized he had nothing, nothing else than his revenge. Much like her, he had been often used, lied to and abused, by people who wanted his help – Cora, Regina, probably Tamara, and even her. He had chosen her, and she had abandoned him. Just like Neal had. Except she wasn't fucking Neal. And there was _no way_ she could make the same mistake just because she was too _freaking_scared to tell him how she felt about him.

Before even realizing what she was doing, she left the apartment in a hurry, not even bothering to close the door after her, running after him.

"Hook!"

He was already at the bottom of the stairs, and she could see him flinch as he heard her voice, but he didn't stop. Neither did she. She reached him in a matter of seconds, grasping his arms to make him turn – and before he could even think of something to say, she reached for the collar of his coat, and pulled him down to kiss him fiercely.

First startled, he remained still for a long time against her lips, but then he suddenly buried his good hand in her golden locks, and his second arms in her back pressed her even closer, as if from preventing her to escape – which was really the last thing she had in mind.

The kiss was long, passionate and intense, and she felt like she would never get enough of it, but after a while, she gently pulled back, breathless, and while holding his gaze, she murmured:

"I hope that's a reason good enough, 'cause it didn't come up with anything else yet."

He smiled softly.

"Aye, that it is. More than good."


End file.
